Elwin - Eternal Love
by harikja6
Summary: (Sequel to Elwin-An Elf's Love) After leaving with three mysterious strangers long ago, Elwin, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli have made it through the Battle of Helms Deep and are on their way to Isengard. Elwin even has suspicions that she might be falling for Legolas. But there is still a long way to go before Middle Earth is safe. (Summary inside better!) Legolas X OC possible OOC
1. Chapter 1

Elwin – Eternal Love

***Disclaimer: I obviously don't own LotR, the awesome movies, any of Tolkien or Peter Jackson's work, or anything really. I can dream though – one day they'll be mine, I tell you! One day…***

**Note: AHHH! IT'S THE SEQUEL! Sorry if I cut it off at a rather inconvenient point, but I thought it would be nice to leave the two love birds in a happy(ish) moment, rather than me mess up their lives even more – because that's what I'm most likely going to do. Ah, being evil is so much fun XD Poor chaps can't catch a break… **

**If you've already read the previous story, Elwin – An Elf's Love, then you can skip this bit. IF NOT then read on :)**

**Basically, this story (**_**Elwin – Eternal Love**_**) is the sequel to my previous story (**_**Elwin – An Elf's Love**_** – if you haven't guess already, I'm really crappy at coming up with titles…), which was a LegolasXOC story, featuring my OC – you guessed it – Elwin. I recommend that to get the full experience of **_**this**_** story, aka the characters, the relationships, etc, you go and read the previous one, but it's not completely necessary (it would just make me happy :D ) The previous story ended around the time **_**The Two Towers**_** ended (maybe a little earlier) and this one begins at around the start of **_**The Return of the King**_** :)**

**Sorry for the long note! Please R&R and I will love you forever, and give you a cookie XD**

~ Chapter 1 ~

There wasn't much laughter or playful chattering in the air as the horses plodded along, but the general atmosphere was light and the sun was warm and there was a pleasant breeze in the air – overall, the journey to Isengard was quite enjoyable.

Legolas and I were certainly closer than we had ever been before (even more so when you take into account how much we had hated each other at our first meeting), and we both certainly felt inclined to spend a little more time around each other, especially after our kiss in the infirmary. After some thought, I had definitely decided that Eowyn was right – I did like him, more than I had ever liked anyone before, and I desperately wanted Legolas to return these unfamiliar feelings. I had never particularly felt this way towards anyone before, so it was strange to me when I decided that I enjoyed spending time around him, and I maybe even enjoyed the arguments and constant bickering that we threw between us, and I _definitely_ enjoyed him kissing me, though I wasn't sure how to react at first.

Of course, I knew ages ago that I didn't hate Legolas as much as I always tried to convince myself I did, and that I did think he was extremely attractive (and despite being horrible to me half of the time, I knew the Elf could be sweet and endearing, as he proved in the armoury before we had gone off to fight), and, with the help of Eowyn's constant nagging me about him, I came to accept my feelings for him.

But, of course, there were always complications. Yes, we had kissed once (twice if you count that time in Edoras, but I tried to think about that as little as possible these days) and what I felt for him was strong, an emotion more powerful than anything I had ever experienced before… but I was far too nervous to just go and walk up to him, stating that I wanted to continue this whole little 'thing' we had – and, besides, what if Legolas had changed his mind? What if he thought that the whole ordeal had been a mistake, and he never wanted to look me in the eye again?

I knew this was a worse case scenario, but I still didn't want to risk it. If Legolas really did feel the same way… well, then, he was going to have to prove it, since when it came to me reading how he felt, I was as useless as a sword made from paper.

Besides, even if he did feel the same, I doubted we could have kept up a relationship in these conditions (and I still wasn't sure he entirely trusted me yet). Things were just far too complicated for us both to deal with, and I suppose… well, that was that.

The thought depressed me and I found myself scowling as Éomer's horse plodded us both forward. I had been planning on sharing a horse with Aragorn, since I still didn't have one of my own (nor did I particularly want one – not that I didn't love them; I thought they were fantastic beasts, it's just I didn't trust myself riding one by myself), as I always had, but had secretly hoped that Legolas would offer.

However, just as we had been about to set off, I was surprised to find Éomer approaching me.

I looked up the tall Rohirrim man, and it was evident that I must have looked rather startled as Éomer laughed and help me buckle the rest of mine and Aragorn's supplies onto the back of the saddle.

"My lady, I seem to have frightened you," he spoke smoothly, and I was torn on how to react – the first time I had met Éomer, he had insulted me (however this had caused Legolas to speak up angrily on my behalf, a small gesture which I had never really appreciated fully until now), and this made me inclined to scowl and turn my back to him.

However, he had called me _my lady_, a title which nobody ever called me – and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it slightly. It had been a long time since anyone had addressed me as 'my lady', or even 'miss' for that matter, and it made me feel quite powerful and renowned, as if men should be expected to kneel and lightly peck my hand before addressing me fully.

Which, you know, would be quite fun if I actually _was_ that sort of woman – I wasn't, unfortunately, but I did rather like the name when it came from Éomer's mouth.

But Éomer was also smiling – in fact, overall, the Lord of the Mark just looked generally happier, and while at first I had thought him to be a rather sour, arrogant, serious looking man, I admit he looked a lot more inviting when he smiled.

In the end, though, despite still being a little miffed about the last time we had met, the _my lady_ thing had caught me off guard and I ended up giggling a bit and grinning back at him.

"You did not frighten me," I assured him, yanking tightly on the last strap – but, despite my efforts to control it, my momentary trepidation did not go unnoticed. Thankfully, Éomer decided to ignore it, most likely for my own sake and sense of pride. "I just did not expect to see you, that was all."

The corners of Éomer's mouth turned upwards slightly and he smirked down at me (he really was quite tall, about the same height as Legolas, or maybe even closer to Aragorn's height). "Am I not allowed to speak to you, then?" He laughed brightly, and though I felt a little insecure in his gaze, I found myself joining him. "Or has my sister said something terrible about me?"

Great Ilúvatar, I had forgotten that Éomer was Eowyn's brother! Now I had remembered it, I did see the strong resemblance – they had the same flaxen hair, like a great field of corn or wheat, and also the same intense fire burning fiercely behind twin pairs of eyes (though Éomer's were more of a hazel, while Eowyn's were almost grey in colour). They could almost be twins, but Éomer's tanned and weather-beaten skin gave him away, giving the impression of an older man – at least older compared to Eowyn's softer, pinker tone, that is.

"No, no! Don't worry, on any occasion where Eowyn _has_ mentioned you, every word was meant well."

"Meant well?" he repeated, looking more and more amused at how flustered I was getting – Éomer had caught me off guard twice already, first with making me jump when he snuck up on me, and the second for just being so… nice? Not that I ever doubted he wasn't a nice person… he just wasn't when I first met him, that was all. "That is good I suppose. At least my sister did not speak terribly of me, at least that I am thankful for! I am sure you already have a bad first impression of me, so there would be no need for her to make it worse." He smiled and I returned it warily.

"So, did you need something?" I asked, and Éomer looked at me blankly for a second, before seemingly remembering his purpose for coming over.

"Ah, yes… well, firstly, I would like to apologise."

"Apologise?" He looked sincere enough, but I didn't know the man well enough to believe him on that alone. "You came to apologise to me?"

Éomer smiled sheepishly, keeping eye contact but reaching out to the horse I was holding and patting its side. "Yes. I believe that when we first spoke I was… shall we say, more than a little rude to you. I am also sorry that I could not apologise sooner, as I have not seen you since, nor did I know you."

I blushed, feeling the heat rush to my face in a torrent of scarlet. "You, um, still do not know me."

Éomer grinned, a strong, charming smile made velvet and silk, it seemed. "Ah, yes, my lady, but I would like to change that. Please, forgive me. I insulted you before I knew what an able warrior you were, and that was wrong of me." He pressed his hand to his breast and bowed his head, awaiting my answer patiently.

I laughed nervously, slowly nodding my head – I still wasn't used to that _my lady_ thing; and had he really just called me an able warrior? "Yes, of course. Don't feel bad, it was partly my fault anyway. I should not have lost my temper so swiftly."

"Even so," Éomer continued, "I insulted you nonetheless, and for that I am sorry. I should not have disrespected your right to travel and fight, especially as you have proven yourself to be so skilful at it."

I bit my lip, trying to contain some of my joy at his completely undeserved praise – he was surely just trying to make up for being rude to me by showering me in compliments, and frankly he was doing a very good job at it.

Even though Legolas had promised me he would trust me from now, I still wasn't so sure that the Elf was willing to fully put his faith in me just yet – I had scared him too much by jumping from the wall into the midst of battle, and, though I had come out of it alive, Legolas's faith in me had crumbled.

So, Éomer calling me an able warrior seemed like a breath of fresh air in comparison. It was nice that someone – whoever it was – actually believed in me, for once.

"Then... you are quite forgiven, if you put it that way."

Éomer bowed his head again, this time in gratitude. "Thank you, Elwin." He raised his eyebrows and looked at me quizzically. "You do not have a horse of your own, do you?"

I shook my head, part of me wondering where he was going with this. "No, this is Brego, Aragorn's horse. I am to share with him, as I have done many times in the past."

"Then, please, by all means share with me! It is the least I could do, and I would be honoured to have you by my side as we travel."

"That's very kind of you, Lord Éomer… but, Aragorn–"

"Oh, I am sure he will not mind, if we explain to him. Please, I insist, Elwin. It would set my heart at ease if you were to join me."

Feeling a little overwhelmed by his offer, I looked over my shoulder to see if Aragorn was anywhere nearby – he was, but he was in deep conversation with King Théoden, while Legolas and Gimli chatted and joked close beside them.

Legolas looked up and our eyes caught for a fleeting, heated moment, before I forced myself to look away.

I breathed in, returning my gaze to Éomer's, who was waiting patiently. "Yes, okay then. I will ride with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: Hey guys! So, I'm very pleased at how people are responding towards Eternal – thank you all so much, especially those who reviewed! I love you all *hugs***

**And to all those who mentioned a jealous Legolas… hehe, maybe not quite so much in this chapter, but I have things planned… just you wait and see! Mwahaha ;)**

~Chapter 2~

My body was strung with tension as the snowy white horse squirmed and whinnied beneath my grip, and even more so when Éomer noticed me falter and placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. We had been travelling for some time, though I hadn't taken the liberty to count the hours exactly; all I knew was that I was very relieved when we stopped to camp. (We were getting closer to Isengard, but Gandalf was unsure of what might happen when we arrived there, and he wanted us all to be rested).

I didn't realise how much I was missing Eowyn's company until now – so far, both Éomer and Aragorn had managed to keep me distracted, and I also made sure we were never far away from Legolas, since it made me feel a bit better knowing he was just that much closer.

"Rohan is of great beauty, Éomer. You are lucky to live in such a magnificent place," I decided to tell Éomer, trying to strike up some conversation to get my mind away from missing Eowyn.

"I'm glad you think that – I was worried that after the battle you would not think it so pretty!" Éomer's voice was bright as his laugh rang out, but there was a hint of something hollow in his tone that I did not point out. "So, tell me of your home? I hear from Aragorn that you are from Mirkwood descent?"

I nodded, before stretching my hands out towards a fire that was burning in the middle of the camp – it had not taken us long to set everything up, and now we were all just relaxing, and talking away the wear of the day around the campfire.

"Yes, though I have not been there for years. The Elves of Firen Wood were all originally from Mirkwood, but we left when the forest fell into darkness – I'm sorry, I don't know too much about it." I swept up a stick from the floor and threw it into the flames, watching them the fiery tongues lick it as it crackled and burned. For a second, the campfire glowed brighter, before dwindling down again.

Aragorn and Théoden had already decided to lie down for the night, and Gandalf was also resting quietly against a tree, though I wasn't sure if he was asleep or not. Legolas had disappeared to somewhere, traipsing off to wherever he always went when he wished for some peace and quiet with only nature as his company, but Gimli (though occasionally closing his eyes and sucking contentedly on his pipe) I knew to be still awake.

"Why did you leave Firenzei?" I was startled when Éomer brought me crashing so suddenly back into the conversation, as we had fallen quiet for some time beforehand.

I shrugged, suddenly feeling a pang of homesickness to go along with the yearning I felt for my best friend's company. "I grew bored of it, I suppose. There is not much else to say, beside that."

Besides, I had had to leave – when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had arrived, Legolas had found out about me not being a full-blood Elf, and the Queen of our village was… shall we say, not too keen on humans. It wouldn't have been good for me to stay there for much longer, despite it being the only home I had ever known.

"You grow bored of places easily?"

Again, I wasn't quite sure how to reply. "Not exactly… I suppose I just don't like being confined to one place."

"And what about people?"

I was starting to grow uncomfortable, and it didn't help that Legolas had arrived back just at the moment, throwing us a look before settling cross-legged next to Gimli. I wanted to speak to him, but I didn't want to leave Éomer, and I doubted there would be much of anything for us to talk about anyway – I just hoped he hadn't forgotten about me, that was all.

"I… I'm not too sure. I hope not," my voice trailed off into silence. I realised I was biting my lip so hard from nerves that I was beginning to taste copper in the back of my throat. "I'll tell you what," I said quickly – a little too quickly, as Éomer quirked an eyebrow at me but thankfully didn't say anything – in a feeble attempt to change the subject, "Get some sleep now, and tomorrow I can teach you how to grass-whistle."

"Grass-whistle?" Éomer repeated, sounding bemused, "What's that?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like. I'd demonstrate now but I don't want to wake up the others – it can get quite loud. The Elflings used to do it all the time, back in Firen."

A grin stretched across Éomer's face and he chuckled quietly. "I look forward to it."

Just like that I was left alone again. It hadn't taken long for Éomer to fall asleep, and though I was tired, for some reason my body didn't quite want to retire just yet.

I felt my conscience getting caught up in Legolas and Gimli's hushed banter, letting myself float absently in a dreamless state. I was still awake, I knew it from the way I could still feel the chilled, velvet blades of grass against my cheek, from where I was resting my head against the ground, and the crackle and snap of twigs and leaves as I shifted my weight around, trying to get comfortable. I was certainly still listening in on my two friends, but other than that my mind felt empty, the words skimming across my mind like a soft breeze scarcely breaking the surface of a lake.

There was a slight scuffling sound, and I heard Gimli laugh while Legolas hummed, the smirk evident in his voice.

"How exactly does this help you?" he asked the Dwarf sceptically, but I was too tired to open my eyes and find out the object of their conversation. "Surely you wouldn't be able to see?" Another rustle, followed by a muted thud of wood tapping the ground, causing Legolas to cry out. "Careful with that! That was my gift from Lady Galadriel, and you know perfectly well that I like to take care of it!"

The Lady of the Golden Wood? They must be talking about the bow of the Galadhrim, that Legolas was so proud of.

Gimli plucked the bow strung and it echoed with an eerie _twang_; you could practically hear Legolas wince at the sound. "What I don't understand, lad, is how you manage to rival me with naught but a pretty piece of wood and an old string!" he teased, pulling at the bowstring again.

"My bow is _not_ just some carved piece of wood and string, Gimli. It was made by the Galadhrim themselves, and – together with the arrows that go with it – it serves me well." A hard, metallic clang. "I _still_ don't understand how this helps! How do you see when you have such a great lump of metal on your head?"

"And _I_ still don't understand how you can fight _without_ a helmet, lad!" Ah, so it was Gimli's helmet that Legolas was so confused about! Things made a little more sense now. I suddenly had the strangest, most adorable image of Legolas trying to fit Gimli's helmet over the tips of his pointed ears, while the Dwarf had taken one of his friend's arrows and was attempting to nock it into place.

After a while, the two friends trailed off and sat in content silence with one another, unaware that I was still vaguely awake and listening to them – I didn't think I would last much longer though, as by now my mind was jerking back and forth between sleep and reality. I just managed to hear Gimli say something along the lines of, "By the way… how are you and Elwin?" before falling completely into black.

~xXx~

"No, no, like this!" I laughed, slowing Firefoot (which Éomer had informed me was his horse's name) slightly so I could reach down and pluck up another long blade of grass from the forest floor. "Let me show you again – you aren't very good at this, are you?" I sniggered, flattening out the piece of grass between my palms before holding it in place between my two thumbs. A squeaky, high pitched sound reverberated throughout the trees as I blew through the tiny space between my thumbs, giggling at how horrendous it sounded.

"Well, you aren't a very good teacher! Those who can't do, teach," Éomer said, his eyes glinting with amusement. I elbowed him lightly to shut him up.

"Shush, stop mocking me and let the master show you how it is done."

"When is the master getting here, then?"

"That is not being quiet, Lord Éomer," I told him but I knew he was laughing. I showed him carefully again how to set the grass between his thumbs, but he was no good at it and the result sounded even worse than when I tried to grass-whistle.

Gandalf, who was the one leading our small company through the thick, humid mist and dark forest of Fangorn, chuckled softly. "This forest is distressed enough, Miss Elwin, I'm sure it does not need your musical prowess to lighten its mood."

"There's nothing a bit of music won't fix!" I replied, laughing, but decided to stop with the music lessons as Éomer was getting nowhere with them, and I certainly was no musical virtuoso when it came to grass-whistling (if it could even pass as music, that is). We were nearing Isengard anyway; I had gathered it from the way Gandalf had allowed us to slow our pace as Fangorn opened before us, creating an avenue of trees which allowed us access to the ruins of the old Isengard road.

The great stone wall was cracked and splintered into countless jagged shards of heavy stone, and far off, half veiled in swirling steam, stood the Tower of Orthanc. It stood tall and menacing, unbroken by the storm of battle and pale waters which lapped around its feet.

Just looking at it made me feel very small, and the power that emanated from it caused me to shrink back into Firefoot's saddle, gripping the hardened leather with cold fingers.

Strangely, however, atop of the smashed jumble of what was left of the great wall… was a picnic. Two small boys were perched at the very top, sitting amidst a great mass of meat, cheese, breads, fruit, wine, and pieces of rock, puffing on long pipes as they lay back in the sunlight.

Both of them had curly brown hair, happy faces, and sparkling eyes, and although one of them was an inch or two taller than the other, they both couldn't have been more that three-foot-eight (though it was a little hard to tell from so far away). They both wore casual, but worn clothes, coloured waist coats over off-white shirts, and neither of them wore shoes over their too-large, hairy feet.

Goodness, should two boys as young as them be drinking such vast amounts of wine? Or… or were they the Hobbits that I had been told so much about, but hadn't had the pleasure of meeting yet! Frodo and Sam, was it? No, they were on their way to Mordor, not in Isengard… these two had different names.

As soon as they saw us, the taller one of the two small fellows jumped up and gave a magnificent bow. "Welcome, my Lords–" there was a small pause as the Hobbit noticed me riding in front of Éomer, smiling mischievously and wiggling his eyebrows, "and Lady, to Isengard!"


	3. Chapter 3

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: To XxKicking Your AxX (In response to your review, because I can't PM you): Haha, I won't let them drink too much… YET ;) Don't worry, I always do try to take concerns and views of the reader into consideration (there'd be no point in me writing if it wasn't to please people with my work!), and I'm gonna try make him a little more lovey-dovey (as well as little bit more jealous), if not in this chapter, then certainly the next one – I have something planned for a bit later (more drama, yay) but, no worries, I shall have a word with Legolas ;)**

**Haha, thank you! And yes you can call me that, mellon-nin! **

**To MoonEternalStar9 (as a guest, I also can't PM you a response): n'aww, thank you! That means a lot to me that you enjoy it and have been keeping with it for so long, and thanks for the congratulation! And yes, I would enjoy a jealous Legolas too – I think everyone would, haha! But have no fear, if he isn't jealous enough for you guys in this chapter, then I have something nice and dramatic for you guys later on, as I said ;) and as for Legolas and Elwin admitting to each other, well, they're both just a bit hopeless, aren't they? Haha, my bad…**

**Sorry for the delay on this one – believe it or not, I'm actually trying to turn over a new leaf for this story and post things a lot quicker than I did with the previous one! I horrible at sticking to schedules, but hopefully I'll better at being a bit faster.**

~ Chapter 3 ~

"Welcome, my Lords and Lady, to Isengard!" The taller Hobbit who had leaped to his feet to welcome us bowed magnificently with a great sweeping movement of his arm. He was staggering about a bit where he stood, something which told me the great flask of drink he held in his hand was not his first.

I had to admit, I was slightly captivated by the two young beings at first sight; they were raucous and incoherently friendly (especially considering they had never seen me before in their lives, and I didn't know if Éomer had ever come in contact with either of them), laughing and joking and blatantly ignoring all of our shocked expressions – and not to mention the fact that they were so tiny! Aragorn or Éomer at least must have been nearly twice the height of them.

The Hobbit who was still sitting down saluted us with his mug, wine sloshing freely over the side, and he giggled playfully before tucking into a great hunk of bread and washing down with another swig of wine.

Gandalf halted in front of the wall and rest of slowed to a stop behind him. Firefoot ended up standing next to Arod, and while Gimli spluttered indignantly over the two Hobbits' sudden appearance I managed to sneak a quick peak up at Legolas.

The Elf was smiling at the two Hobbits (M– Merry and Pippagrin was it? No… not, it was Pippin, Merry and Pippin), a sweetly amused, contagious smirk that I could feel creeping onto my own lips the longer I watched him. It was so easy and natural, accompanied with bright, laughing eyes that I felt my breath quicken ever so slightly at the sight.

"Why you–! You young rascals! After all we've been through – a merry hunt you've led us on, through forest and field, and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!" Gimli was having trouble trying to hide his envy at the array of deliciously tempting wine and food, as well as the pipes stuffed full to the brim with smoking leaves.

At this point, the smaller Hobbit decided to join in the conversation, after having just been listening and continuing to drink and smoke while his friend greeted us. His voice was considerably more slurred than his friend's, however His eyes were glassy and every time he blinked it was a slow, purposeful one, like he was trying to regain his senses again – or at least stop his world from spinning long enough to retain his concentration.

"I'll have you know that we are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying but a few well-earned comforts! It's not often that we Hobbits go to war, and I expect we need some sort of meal after all that!" A rakish grin and a lazy wink from the small fellow, and Gimli huffed. "I must say, though, that the salted pork is _particularly_ good."

"Salted pork?"

The company laughed and Gandalf shook his head, while I watched on curiously a short distance back. "Hobbits!" the wizard boomed – so I was right! They _were_ Hobbits! What curious, delightful, little creatures! "Merry," Gandalf said, nodding towards the taller one of the two, who was still standing, "and Pippin, my friends. It has been a long time."

Merry smiled brightly. "It has! And I see that our circle of friends has grown since we parted." He jerked his head briskly over to Éomer and I, as well as King Théoden. I smiled back, and Merry gave a strange, wonky sort of bow.

"I see we have a lady in our company now?" Pippin continued for his friend, grinning slyly. "Is she purposeful or merely decorative? Either way, I am sure we will be glad of her presence."

"Pippin!" Merry said, and I laughed at the strange pair, showing poor Merry that I wasn't offended by Pippin's remark at me joining them for merely 'decorative' purposes. On the contrary, I took it as a compliment.

Deciding to ignore Pippin, Merry puffed out his chest proudly and jerked his head towards the looming shadow behind them. "We're under orders from Treebeard who's taken over the management of Isengard."

"Management of Isengard?" Gandalf repeated, a twinkle just visible under his bushy brows. Gently, he pressed his heels into Shadowfax's sides and the horse obediently trotted forward.

Pippin was pulled up onto the glistening, snowy-white back of Shadowfax, to be kept under the watchful eye of Gandalf, while Aragorn helped Merry onto Brego. Following Gandalf, we swerved in and out of the crumbling jigsaw of rocks, and entered into the shadow of the Tower of Orthanc.

Strangely, its roots planted deep within the now-murky waters that lapped around us, just outside of the dark Tower there stood a tree. Rather a strange place to plant a tree, if you ask me, though it certainly did brighten up the place a little.

There was a long creak and slowly the tree blinked.

Wait… _blinked?_

I felt Éomer tense behind me, and Firefoot tossed back his head, growing restless under the Lord's suddenly tightened grip.

Great Eru… was this one of the fabled Ents that had passed from life into legend an age ago? I never doubted their existence, and I knew that it was the Elves that had woken them from their slumber and taught them the ways of words all those aeons ago, but I had not yet seen one with my very own eyes.

We all stared at it in silence and awe, the only people completely unfazed by the Ent's presence being Gandalf and the two Hobbits, before suddenly great '_hoooom_' broke the through the quiet, startling both the Firefoot and myself.

The strange noise sounded like a strange combination of damp wood creaking under strain and a deep, breathy sigh, and it took me a few moments for the variation of creaks to form words in my head. "Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come."

_Young_ master Gandalf? What a strange thought! If Gandalf appeared young to the Ent (who I assumed was the Treebeard, the newly appointed manager of Isengard) I wonder how the rest of us must look! As Elflings, perhaps?

"I have taken control of Isengard," Treebeard continued in his slow, rhythmic tones, "but there is a wizard locked in this tower still. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can manage, but managing one of the Istari is a skill that is beyond my reach."

Aragorn threw back his head, throwing his voice to the very top of the tower. "Show yourself!"

I gulped, feeling a lump forming in my throat. Another wizard? Locked up? My brain felt addled, slightly confused at what was going on, but I was too afraid to say – it certainly did not feel like asking questions.

"We need him alive. We must speak to him, but be careful; even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous. We cannot just have his head and be done with it." Gandalf's hushed tones were sharp and wary, his voice strained as a figure clad in white robes appeared on top of Orthanc.

Saruman's narrowed, deceitful eyes and sneer were easily visible, even when so far away. His whole being radiate spite and anger, along with the echo of a great power that he had once held but no more; I felt myself hating and fearing him with just one glance. His first words were directed towards Théoden, and the King tried to not to stand tall and proud in front of the wizard atop the tower.

"You have fought in many wars and a slain many men, only to make peace again afterwards. Can we not do the same, taking counsel as we once did, my old friend?" Saruman's voice was smooth, like a cat's purr, and it sent shivers down my spine the longer I listened to it. It was almost as if he were mocking us, knocking us down with an army ten-thousand strong and then trying to fix everything up again with a few kind words.

Thankfully, Théoden was not so thick-skulled as to fall for it. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold! For the women and children that lie dead there, and when the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged!"

I had to admit, my respect for Théoden went up quite a lot at this point – I was no all-knowing wizard myself, but even I could tell that Saruman was not to be messed with.

With a scowl, Saruman turned his back to the fuming Théoden and instead placed his attention on Gandalf. "And what have you come here for, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess? The key to Orthanc? Or maybe the keys to Barad Dûr itself might be more suited to your refined tastes? And perhaps also the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the five wizards?" He paused, the smile on his face growing as he laughed inwardly at his own joke, but his eyes were as cold as ever.

Gandalf decided to ignore Saruman's dark, dry humour. "Your treachery has already cost many lives, and many more are still at risk. However, you have the trust of the enemy, and are deep in their counsel; you could save them."

"Ah… So you have come here for information? I have some for you." Saruman purred, his voice edged with malice. He held up a queerly glowing black orb and stared deep into it, the strange light emanating from it illuminating his sharply angled face. "You have failed to see something… something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth, that you have missed but the Great Eye has not. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon, Gandalf Grayhame, and the days of your light are shortly numbered. But, be warned, that the Great Eye has seen it! He presses his advantage, even now, and his attack will come soon. You are all going to die! Oh, but you know this, don't you, Gandalf?"

With a malicious smile contorting his, Saruman bent his head over the ledge and his dark, burning gaze flickered between us all. A chuckle tore from his throat, like knives against stone. He seemed to be enjoying tormenting us, to hide his displeasure at being trapped in the tower – if escape was not an option, then mocking us would have to do for him. "You cannot really think that a _Ranger_ would ever sit upon the throne of Gondor." It was more of a statement than an actual question. "This exile, crept from the shadows, to be crowned King."

Gandalf rode forward, Shadowfax's pure, pale fur standing out fiercely against the dark brick of Orthanc. Saruman noticed his movement but either saw him as no threat, or simply chose to ignore him – there was no stopping him now, the insults and jeers rolling off of his tongue as fluidly as the water beneath our feet.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Tell me… what last golden words of advice did you give the Halfling before sending him to his death? You honestly think you win this war with a couple of Hobbits, a ranger, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a half-breed?" I swallowed back fury and clenched my teeth at those last few words, anger swelling deep within my gut – I had not been referred to as a half-breed since Legolas had stopped, and that was long ago.

Narrowing his eyes, it looked like Gimli was also not too keen on being insulted to his face. "Shoot him!" he hissed to Legolas. Legolas glared up at the tower, long, pale fingers twitching by his side, anxious to play out his friend's desires. "I've heard enough of his foulness, shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob, lad!"

If my eyes were correct, I saw Legolas smile thinly as he reached behind his back for an arrow, only pausing when Gandalf held out his hand to stop the Elf from shooting.

"No," Gandalf told him sternly, and the Elf obeyed (albeit slightly reluctantly). Gandalf returned his attention to Saruman. "Come down and your life will be spared!"

With his voice laced with spite, Saruman sneered down at us. "Save your pity, Greyhame, it has no use here!"

Suddenly flames erupted from the end of Saruman's staff, the fiery tendrils swirling and crackling as they engulfed Gandalf in a tornado of heat and fury. My heart skipped a beat, fearing for the wizard's safety – he had had not even attempted to dodge the attack, despite anticipating it far before the rest of us!

"_Do not fear_," a quiet voice made its way through the torrent of hissing and spitting coming from the fire, and it took me a moment longer to realise that it was Legolas speaking in our own language. Arod was standing close to Firefoot, only a few feet away from each other, and I saw orange light dancing on Legolas's pale face when I looked over. "_You must trust Gandalf; he knows what he is doing._"

I had to bite my tongue to hold back a sharp reply, feeling tense and on edge. I had never doubted Gandalf, as of yet, but I had never seen him face off another wizard before – how was I supposed to know whether he would come out alive? I trusted Saruman as skilfully as Éomer could grass whistle…

With a flash, the flames turned into nothing more but sparks, fizzling away into the air like fireflies. Gandalf and Shadowfax stood as they were, unmoved and completely unharmed.

"Your staff is broken!"

A sharp crack echoed through the air as wood splintered from the staff, disintegrating before his eyes. As the noise died down and Saruman was staring aghast at Gandalf, jaw loose and eyes piercing and furious, a greasy, dark head appeared behind the wizard's back.

I didn't notice him straight away, but I heard Éomer curse under his breath and he shifted his weight on the saddle uncomfortably, and Firefoot shook back his head in protest at the movement.

The sallow skin and straggled hair seemed familiar to me, but while I could not place a name to the pallid face, King Théoden seemed to recognise him almost immediately.

"Grima! You need not follow him!" he called up, only for the man – Grima, as I now knew his name to be – shrunk back behind the ashen-white of Saruman's cloak. With a persistent dent in his brow, Théoden tried again. "You were not always as you are now, Grima. You were once a man of Rohan, and you will be yet again. Come down!"

Ah, of course! He was the man I had seen so long ago, back when we had arrived in Edoras, after my first meeting with Gandalf. When Théoden had been but a shadow of the man he was now, poisoned by Grima's words and sick in the mind. That was where I had seen his face before.

For a split second, Grima looked tempted to take Théoden up on his offer, but Saruman had shot out an arm to hold him back and answered before Grima had had a chance to open his mouth.

"A man of Rohan?" he scoffed, keeping Grima contained with one steady arm, "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands waste away their health on drink while their brats roll around on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Horse Master!"

"Grima…" Theoden's voice was quiet, softer than I had ever heard him speak before. "Grima, come down. There will ever be a seat for you in the Great Hall, ever a place for you amongst the Rohirrim. Come down… come down and be free of him!"

"Free? He will never be free!"

"No!" The first word he had spoken against Saruman, and it was desperate and shaky, but determined nonetheless.

Saruman's eyes blazed, his expression contorting. "Get down, you cur!" With a flick of his wrist, Saruman struck Grima across the face, and the hunched man was thrown backwards across the roof. He lay there motionless for a few moments, before rising up behind the oblivious wizard like a dark shadow of threat, and slipped a small dagger out of his robes. My stomach flipped as his face contorted and he thrust the knife twice into Saruman's back.

In a blur of flesh and forest-green cloth, Legolas whipped an arrow from his quiver and had aimed and shot Grima in the blink of an eye. The man clutched at his chest, where the yellow feathered arrow stuck fast, the barbed tip stuck in his flesh. Grima toppled over backwards, his grip on the knife loosening as he fell.

I scrunched my eyes shut tightly as Saruman's body started to teeter precariously on the edge of the black structure, and – though I didn't see it – the sickening tearing sound that echoed across Isengard when the wizard's limp body made impact with the spike on the waterwheel made my cringe and shiver.

"It's all right," Éomer whispered softly, sensing my discomfort.

Éomer's kindness was greatly accepted, but it wasn't enough for me. I wanted Legolas. I wanted him to spend time with me, to comfort me, to hold me close while everything around us rushed by in a wild whirl of war and death, meanwhile we were encased in our own little bubble, surrounding and protecting our crazy, perfect world. I hadn't had a chance to speak to him yet, but I wanted to.

A whirring sound hummed through the air and slowly the wheel started to turn and white-clad corpse was submerged underwater.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away. The trees will come back here. Young trees, wild ones. The forest of Fangorn will yet live on and continue to grow to its former beauty." Treebeard breathed in again, taking precise care over each and every groaning word.

"Pippin!" Aragorn said in a warning tone as the young Hobbit dropped off of Shadowfax and – half-walking, half-swimming – attempted to make his way to the tower through the flood.

Furrowing my brow, I released my grip on Éomer and swung one of my legs back over Firefoot, readying myself for the impact of the water. Just before I was about to push myself off, Legolas blinked and he caught my gaze.

There was a short moment where I felt time had stopped. Legolas stared at me, his eyes pleading and alarmed, and his hand dropped Arod's reins in an instant, shooting to the side to grab my hand. His grip was tight and desperate, and strangely cold, but where he was gripping my wrist still felt warm from the sudden impact. _I'll be fine,_ I wanted to tell him, _I'm only going to make sure Pippin is okay._

Our gazes stayed still, silent and frozen, and were only broken when Legolas titled his head to the side in a small gesture. Then the Elf's eyes flickered up towards Éomer, who was sitting patiently behind me, and a dark look crossed his already intense eyes.

That was strange… I knew Legolas had never particularly been fond of Éomer, but was this really the time? I don't think I had ever seen him to be so…

Legolas caught my eyes for one final time, a deep stare that lingered for a second too long. My whole body flushed felt like it was on fire, only tamed when I slipped down from Firefoot's back and landed with an echoing splash into the drenched lands.

The flood only went to about half way up my calf, but Pippin was struggling, nearly thigh deep in water; every step he took sent waves of water in every direction. The poor fellow looked almost as if he were about to drown when he bent down into the water and brought up the black orb.

Before I could reach Pippin, however, Gandalf was suddenly beside him, and Pippin shrunk under the wizard's gaze. "Peregrin Took. I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now, hand it over!"

Trembling with obvious hesitance, Pippin obediently reached up on his tiptoes to place the orb into Gandalf's hands, crumbling under the old man's watch and averting his eyes to his reflection in the water.

**Note: (it feels weird writing one at the end of a chapter, but since it's so long, this is just a tiny one!) Sorry, this one didn't turn out with many lovey-dovey, sweet and fluffy moments between Legolas and Elwin, since it's a lot more of a canon chapter that moves the plot along – but I have started the next one and plan to add more of that stuff in. Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: It was fun writing this chapter – for some reason I always imagined Legolas to be rather a handful as a young Elfling for poor Thranduil, so it was fun adding a little bit of that in ;)**

**Hopefully more fluff between Legolas and Elwin in this chapter! Believe me, more jealously will appear soon and hopefully it will be worth the wait… mwahaha.**

**Enjoy!**

~ Chapter 4 ~

It was nice when we settled down to camp for the night; instead of us all splitting apart when we began to set up like last time (what with some of us crawling away to go to sleep as soon as we had gotten everything sorted while the others stayed up), a camp fire was kindled straight away and we all sat around to talk, sing and share stories. Merry and Pippin laid out a feast of all the food they had brought with them from Isengard, as well as a small keg of ale, which was shared generously between us all (it was best to try and drink it all now, as there was no way we would lug the thing back with us).

I had ended up between Legolas and Éomer, which was strange to say the least. Éomer and I had become fairly close friends by now, and Legolas was, well, he was Legolas and I enjoyed his company – but the two of them together was... uncomfortable. They had never been particularly fond of each other, I don't think, I somehow I felt my presence that was meant to be keeping them apart (instead of at each other's throats) was making it worse.

Somehow, as the night bore on and the stars began to litter the sky, the subject had turned to the Elf on my left – he had been very quiet while Éomer was talking, absent-mindedly toying with a braid in his hair while his mind was elsewhere, and surprisingly Gandalf was the one to comment on his sudden stillness.

"My goodness, how you appear to have changed, master Legolas," Gandalf had boomed after a few moments of watching him. "Such an exuberant child you used to be, and now so very quiet!"

Everyone laughed as Legolas' head shot up at the mention of his name, shadows and orange light from the fire dancing on his face. Blinking a few times, he turned to look a Gandalf quizzically.

"Your father and I always agreed that you were rather a troublesome little rascal as an Elfling." He winked and inhaled deeply on his pipe (Merry and Pippin had made sure we had stocked up on pipe weed from Saruman's stocks before we had left, as well – I didn't smoke, and I wasn't sure about Legolas, but the others certainly had no objections). "Never could follow any orders without some sort of complaint or form of backtalk! You certainly gave your poor minder something to work with – at least now you can sit silently without fidgeting every few moments!"

Legolas, who was smiling though his eyes were wide with shock and embarrassment, wrung his hands together, words unable to leave his mouth; it seemed he was rather taken aback by Gandalf's sudden comment. I giggled as he shifted his gaze over to me, unsure what to say in return.

"Well, that certainly has not changed much," Aragorn commented wryly on Legolas' uncomfortable shifts where he sat, grinning fondly underneath the shadows on his face.

With a satisfied smirk, I watched his cheeks colour with shame. Strangely, it was rather nice seeing him get embarrassed and teased by his friends.

"That's funny," I said to him, turning to face him full on with a wide grin plastered on my features, "I never pictured you being a brat as child."

"I do not remember me being a particularly difficult Elfling…" he coughed quietly under his breath, raising his eyebrows at Gandalf and saying a little louder, "Nor do I ever remember Mithrandir having such conversations with my father about my behaviour!"

Breathing out a few smoke rings, Gandalf chuckled, "Oh, that is not even the worst of it, dear Legolas – I seem to remember eavesdropping being a worse one of your habits, and your father agreed." The wizard looked up and caught my eye, ignoring Legolas' splutters and awkward coughs with a knowing smile. "In the end, King Thranduil resorted to keeping the young master in his chambers while their meetings took place – but, of course, you then learned to pick the locks with the tip of your sword or an arrow head!"

"A skill which has proved me to be quite useful during the years," Legolas sniffed, trying to regain some of his dignity. Gimli (who was placed on the other side of him) sniggered and clapped him on the back a few times in a poor attempt of comfort. "Oh, Eru, you make it sound as if I were a burden on my father! Besides," he continued with another cough, looking over to me again with a slight smile, "I always heard my name while they spoke _oh so secretly_ in the meeting hall and I was only ever curious as to what they might be saying."

Gandalf's pointed hat teetered on his head as he laughed, and I heard Merry and Pippin sniggering as they consumed the last of the drink. "And I suppose you expected to hear all good words?" Legolas blushed an even deeper shade of scarlet, but laughed along good naturedly.

Pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face into his hands, Legolas shrunk away from all our jests and laughter. "What is this? The day we all tell embarrassing stories about my childhood?"

"Well, it does make for a rather interesting topic of dinner entertainment," Gimli said with a snide smile. Legolas groaned.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, mister Legolas," Pippin told him, biting a huge chunk out of an apple and then continuing with his mouth full, "Merry and I have done much worse!"

Merry nodded along enthusiastically. "I reckon that if these stories are true, then we would have become fast friends with your younger self!"

"Oh, they are true," Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow at Legolas who began blushing profusely again, "and you were even worse when paired with Elladan and Elrohir!"

"Elladan and Elrohir?" I asked, pursing my lips – I recognised the names, but I don't think I had ever met or heard too much about these two. Were they not the twin sons of Lord Elrond?

The Elves in Firen were always slightly more excluded from the rest of the Elven settlements, so I was usually a little clueless when it came to things like this.

Aragorn nodded, bringing the tip of his pipe to his mouth again. "Lord Elrond's sons," he confirmed for me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, "and technically also my brothers – I was always very young when Legolas chanced a visit to see them, but even back then I knew that the three of them together were never good news!" He shook his head, reminiscing and laughing quietly. "I felt especially sorry for King Thranduil and Lord Elrond, who had to deal with them all as Elflings – not to mention myself, as I was usually dragged into their mischief one way or another."

By this point, Legolas was verging on a deep beetroot red. "M-my apologies, Aragorn…" he stuttered out, hiding his face from us, "Your brothers and I never meant any harm!"

It was strange trying to picture Aragorn as a child, and even stranger attempting to imagine Legolas roping him into pranks and getting him into trouble. Another thing that had struck me (although I was a little to shy to ask about) was the reference to Thranduil, the Elven-king of Mirkwood. I had never had the courage to ask, nor had I ever been told much about Legolas' family (though he had once mentioned once the lack of a mother-figure). I knew he was from Mirkwood… but was Thranduil really his father? How had I never come to realise this?

That meant Legolas was a prince…

I suddenly felt my face going as red as Legolas' – he was a _prince_, and not just any prince but that of King Thranduil's line of blood. The Elves of Firen were once Mirkwood Elves… does that mean Legolas had rule over me still? Of course, I always guessed he held a higher status than me (though it wasn't that hard to beat my rather meagre status of a simple, half-blood scout of Firen) but a _prince_?

We had kissed. I wonder what his father might think of his son and (for lack of a better word) a hybrid scout? Or worse, what might the Elven-king think of his son if we were ever to wed…

I shook my head, ridding my mind of those particular thoughts – marriage was certainly not what I wanted to think about, especially when the object of my desire was sitting less than two feet away from me.

Merry and Pippin (who were enjoying the childhood tales as much as I was) were giggling along with me, the three of us finding it hard to stop smiling. Things were almost back to normal again, in one sense – at least the sombre mood had been extinguished and we were all chatting merrily again, as old friends (and new friends, when taking into account Merry and Pippin, although that only really applied to me as the others were already acquainted with the two Hobbits). Although things had not entirely calmed, at least now things were settling down, and it felt good to laugh once more.

Gandalf breathed out another smoke ring and chuckled in his deep, gravely tones, "And then there was the time the young master Elf dyed his hair, in an attempt of rebellion against his father…"

"The sun has long since gone now; do you not think we should all be going to sleep?" Legolas interrupted before Gandalf could finish, ending with a nervous laugh, fidgeting restlessly with the hem of his cloak. His entire face had now gone redder than the fruit I expected he used to stain the pale golden locks.

I rolled my eyes with a small, amused sigh, catching his pleading gaze yet again and smirking. "As much as I am sure we would all enjoy hearing that story… Legolas is right. If we want to make it back to Edoras in good time tomorrow, then we best be off to sleep."

Merry and Pippin groaned, already anxious to listen to the unfortunate (albeit surely hilarious) tale, but Legolas just smiled at me gratefully. "Thank you," he mouthed to me and I laughed.

"I expect for you yourself to tell me another time," I whispered under my breath in return. Then, continuing out loud once more, I offered to take the first watch.

"No, no," Éomer said, taking me by surprise – I had been so caught up in all the stories and he had been so quiet that I had almost forgotten that he was there. "I can take first watch for you – you should sleep, and I doubt that there would be a particularly large amount of danger to look out for now we are getting closer to Edoras." Éomer's hazel eyes darkened, flickering between Legolas and myself, before settling on myself. "The last few nights have been rather quiet, it would make no difference."

Before I could say anything about how I wasn't very tired and could easily stay up for a few more hours, Legolas had piped up for me (having recovered fully from his previous ordeal of being relentlessly teased by Gandalf and Aragorn). "I'm sure Elwin can look after herself," the Elf told him bluntly, kneeling and placing a hand on the crevice of my neck. It is you and King Théoden who will need the most sleep out of all of us, if you want to make an entrance when we reach Edoras."

Éomer's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened at being spoken down to – though taller by the head than Legolas when standing up, Legolas was almost leaning over the sitting man when perched on his knees. "You would not wish to tire the poor girl?"

"I do not, but I have known her for far longer than you have and if she wants to take the watch then I know she will cope."

I sighed – that certainly had not been what he had said before the battle, when he had tried to convince me not to fight at the risk of my death. Couldn't Legolas make up his mind already?

I tilted my chin upwards to catch Legolas' attention, pressing my palm over where his fingers touched my skin. "If Éomer wants to take the shift in my place then he can," I said in a quiet voice, and Legolas' face ignited with an array of different gestures that altogether made up a rather unpleasant scowl.

There was a short moment where no one spoke, but I could practically feel the heat and daggers that were shot between the two bristling men in but one mere shared look.

~xXx~

I wasn't asleep for very long; a quiet scuffle and my feet being shifted ever so slightly soon brought me back to consciousness. It was still dark, the blackened violet of night broken by soft orange glow just a few feet away from me.

It was the fire, still smouldering gently, and as I sat up and blinked away the sleepy haze a figure was made visible, crouched over and fuelling the flames with broken bits of wood. Leaning back on my arms I peered at him through the dark, trying to learn who it was.

Pale blonde braids warmed to a sweet gold colour in the flickering firelight and it was a few moments before he looked up and noticed that I was awake.

"Sorry," Legolas whispered, voice almost drowned by the crackle and pop of burning wood. "It was not my intention to wake you. It is a cold night and, since there is no danger about, I might as well relight the fire."

"It is okay…" My words trailed off into silence; this was the first time we had actually been alone together since Helm's Deep – well, technically alone, at least, I suppose this was the closest we could ever get. "Do you…need any help?" My mouth felt dry and my mind went blank. What was I to say? Or do? We couldn't just sit here in silence…

Legolas shook his head, turning his attention back to the flames. "No, I should be fine."

Sitting up further, I crossed my arms in my lap and leaned forward, my brow creased in concern. Was it just me, or was Legolas being a bit abrupt? "Are you sure?" I tried again, "There is nothing heroic about denying a little help."

He chuckled and a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "There is also nothing much heroic about relighting a fire – you would freeze without it. You were already shivering earlier, this is the least I can do."

There was not much I could say to that, in fact I was actually a little taken back by the kindness of his gesture.

"You should have said something if you were cold," Legolas told me after I was quiet for a while, "I could have leant you my cloak."

Of course there was no way I could stay silent at this; it was a rare moment when I saw his compassionate side directed towards me, and so far the few times that the Elf had acted this way have never left my memory. "Thank you. Though I would have been fine without it, I can handle myself, you know."

"If you insist," Legolas said with a wink. "I suppose you would be against it if I offered it to you now then?"

"I– I did not say that, entirely…"

Another soft laugh. Legolas paused his work on the campfire to unlatch the beautiful leaf shaped brooch (if I was not mistaken, I recognised it as a symbol of Lorien) at his throat, slipping the grey-green material from his shoulders and placing it neatly over my own.

"Thank you." It was already warm, heated both by his body and also from how close he had been sitting to the fire. I pulled the hem over my feet, tucking them under the surprisingly thin cloth. "So… you really dyed your hair?"

An embarrassed smile broke across Legolas' face as he bowed his head away from me, remembering the incident. I shifted closer, grinning inanely, and with a small sigh he finally relented to relive the tale. "Mithrandir exaggerates how awful the event was! But, to cut a long story short, as a child I was never much of a fan of being taught the political sides of being a prince and there was one particular affair, which I did not want to go to… so, in a poor attempt to get out of going – and not to mention in a slight rebellion against my ada – I used forest berries to stain the tips of my hair. It was awful, but on the bright side, ada was so horrified at me that I did manage to escape the event."

So, it was true, Legolas was a prince. Not that I ever doubted his heritage, but it was still rather strange to think of him as actual royalty. "You actually did that?" It was hard to giggle, and even harder to keep the volume of my voice down. All I could see was a tiny, childlike version of Legolas, except in place of his usual blonde locks he had his hair was a brilliant, flaming cherry colour - despite Legolas' fervent insistence that it was only the tips he coloured, but that did not stop my imagination from getting the better of me.

"Bearing in mind I was but a child!" came the expected argument in his defence, but a cheerful smile gave away that – not Eru knows how many years later from the incident – Legolas now found it as funny as I did. "Besides, it only lasted about a week. Ada made me try and wash out the colour about three times a day to rid my hair of it, and it was not even that bright in the first place! He was not what you call _pleased_."

"Maybe you should have just used more berries to make it more permanent? I reckon the colour might suit you," I suggested to him, and watched as the silken tresses tumbled off his shoulders and down his back as the Elf tipped his head back to laugh.

I missed these times when it was just us two: even just trying to remember the last time when I had actually been alone with him took far more effort than it should have, and it reminded me just how much I wanted to be with him. So much had happened after Helm's Deep that the feelings had been dimmed slightly – but now they were back, and brighter than ever before.

It was as these thoughts crossed my mind that I realised that, when wrapping his cloak around me, the Elf's slender, pale fingers had lingered on my arm, the gentle pressure pleasant and tickling. With a small smile and a nervously fluttering heart, I reached out to touch one of the delicate plaits – the small doubt ever lived in me that one day I might try to take his hand and he would turn away from me in disgust.

Thankfully, however, Legolas did nothing of the sort. I rolled the small braid between my fingers, contemplating his story. "You know, I am sure you might suit something other than blonde. Perhaps one day I might have to ambush you with blueberries, to see how purple looks?

Grinning, Legolas bent his head down and my stomach leaped as I began to feel his hot breath on my cheek. "I am sure my father would be thrilled if you did that. Now, what colour for you, young lady…" Legolas picked playfully at some strands of my hair. "I am thinking… green, perhaps? You would blend in more that way, less trouble!"

"Nonsense! I have always thought myself to suit more of a pink shade."

Bodies stirred behind us, interrupting our flirtatious banter, but we ignored the small movement. I braced myself for the electricity that would spark to life as soon as the space between our mouths was closed, but it never occurred. Instead, Legolas traced a line down my cheek with the tip of his finger and pressed his lips to my temple. "The others will be up soon," he mumbled to me when I looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Despite it still being fairly dark, I knew that Théoden wished to arrive in Edoras fairly early, so preparations for an evening's celebration feast could be made.

Shaking off the hem of Legolas' cloak, I stretched my feet out and rested them near the small fire that was now going. If I wanted to retire again I expect Legolas would most likely stay by the fire and keep an eye on the rest of us (particularly the Hobbits), what with it being his turn to keep watch.

Legolas picked a few pieces of grass from the top of my head, a slight smirk edging its way into his expression. With his presence close to me and the warmth presented by the palm of his hand and his cloak, I withdrew from him slightly and lay down my head once again.


	5. Chapter 5

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: The bits of song I've used in this are from the song called 'The Cat and the Moon' from the LotR musical (though it is originally sung by the Hobbits in Bree in the musical, I think). It's a drinking song, and I love it so much! It's so cheery and upbeat and nonsense xD**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews, and favourites and everything! You are all amazing and just asdfghjkl; and just thank you –flails-**

~ Chapter 5 ~

Legolas's POV

"Drink as many as you can, first one down loses. No food is to be allowed, nor any other sort of drink besides what I hand you, and no pauses nor spills." Éomer handed Gimli a tankard of ale, who took it joyfully, before passing one to me as well. I smiled dryly – just because he was good friends with Elwin now that did not mean that I had to be nice to him, and it seemed that Éomer thought the same. We had arrived in Edoras early this afternoon and the celebrations were beginning now, just as Arien was starting to set beyond the horizon and Ithil would soon rise, marking the beginning of night.

"And no regurgitations!" Gimli lifted the tankard to his mouth, his loud laughter adding to the general atmosphere and cheerful rowdiness.

I looked at Gimli, trying not to smile at his enthusiasm – I was not quite sure what was going on, but the Dwarf obviously thought he was going to beat me and that was _not_ going to happen. It was not like I had not drunk before (I had grown up with my father, and anyone who knew him could tell you that – besides ruling Mirkwood – he only really had two passions in life: hoarding treasure and good, strong wine) but I did not drink… well, competitively.

"So… it is a drinking game?" I asked, and Gimli smiled, looking at me as if I was some innocent young Elfling. I scowled at him. "I did not realise there were rules to consuming alcohol… and what exactly is the point of it?"

"No point, lad! Aye, this will be the decider as to who the better Dwarf is!" He raised his tankard to me, frothing ale sloshing over the side. "Last one standing wins!" Gimli shouted, downing his flagon in one.

I stared into the cup, swirling about the murky brown liquid a few times. It was certainly different to the stuff I usually drank, but Gimli seemed to be enjoying it.

Gingerly, I took a sip, before swallowing slowly and then finishing the tankard, only to passed another, then another, and then yet another. It became a sort of rhythm for Gimli and me, with a whole line of people willing to hand us more and more drinks as we consumed them all, one after the other.

After we had both acquired a fair number (and growing) of empty tankards before us, Gimli paused a let a tremendous burp rip through his lips – I had not noticed it until now, but he was looking rather worse for wear. "Aye, you men an' all your maidens, but you don' know what you're missing! But if you ever come around with me, then you'll realise it's the Dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women!" he sniggered and burped again, wrenching another flagon from Éomer's hand but only managing to swallow about half of it, as most of it missed his mouth completely and was soaked into his beard.

Reaching out for another tankard myself, my hand hesitated before I could grip the mug.

"I… I think I might feel something…" I flexed my fingers slowly, staring at them; out of the corner of my eye I saw Éomer raise an eyebrow – did he honestly expect to see my worst, most inebriated self tonight? "It might be affecting me. I have a slight tingle in the tips of my fingers. How long are we supposed to go on for again?"

Gimli giggled and slammed his tankard down on the wooden table, his words slurred and barely audible. "Wha' did I say? 'e can't hold his liquor!" the Dwarf managed to wheeze out before his eyes rolled back into his head and keeling over backwards off of his stool.

I couldn't help myself and looked Éomer straight in the eyes, feeling very smug with victory. "Game over."

By the time our drinking competition had finished (Éomer and the others were thoroughly inebriated, having been trying to match the number of our tankards throughout), the Rohirrim men had soon pushed Éomer up onto a table and were calling for him to say or sing something, celebrating our victory.

"My comrades!" The Lord of the Mark was shouting, his cheeks a little flushed from all the excitement and his words ever so slightly slurred, "My friends! Tonight we drink to our victory!"

He punched his flagon into the air, drink spilling everywhere, and the men cheered and shouted.

"Sing us a song!" someone shouted, and Aragorn (who had appeared next to me, smirking and leaning against one of the tables) chuckled and sent me a look as Éomer laughed with agreement and nodded,

Éowyn looked slightly flustered at her drunken brother pulling her up onto the table top with him, but she was laughing and smiling, so she can't have been too annoyed. In fact, she even reached down into the crowd, grabbing a pale arm, and suddenly Elwin was up there as well, giggling beside her and ignoring all the whistles they were getting. (Neither of the two women had drunk very much, as they both appeared to be sober, but they seemed to be having fun where they were, going along with whatever Éomer was planning in his intoxicated state.)

"You know the words do you not, dear sister?" Éomer asked Éowyn, who nodded and smiled.

"I know all the songs you know!"

"Of course you do, my apologies. Are you ready?" Éomer cleared his throat and grinned.

_"There's__ an inn of old renown_

_Where they brew a beer so brown_

_Moon came rolling down the hill_

_One Hevnsday night to drink his fill!"_

"What song is this?" I asked, frowning at the unfamiliar tune that practically the whole room was now singing along too. Aragorn shrugged at the question, laughing.

"No clue, but they seem to know it." He nodded to where the crowd of men had surrounded the table where they were all dancing cheerfully; Éowyn had hooked Elwin's arm and they spun round a few times in time to the singing, giggling between themselves.

_"On __a three-stringed fiddle there_

_Played the Ostler's cat so fair_

_The hornèd Cow that night was seen_

_To dance a jig upon the green._

_Called by the fiddle to the_

_Middle of the muddle where the_

_Cow with a caper sent the_

_Small dog squealing._

_Moon in a fuddle went to_

_Huddle by the griddle but he_

_Slipped in a puddle and the_

_World went reeling."_

Aragorn and I laughed as Éowyn joined in on the chorus, while Elwin looked at her, slightly bewildered but very much enjoying herself. During the last verse she had stopped swinging herself around with Éowyn and let Éomer take up her hand for the next few verses.

After the chorus had come round for a fourth time, Merry and Pippin had also joined the crew on the table top, and I saw Merry bow to Elwin, who smirked and curtsied in return, while Pippin took up Éowyn's hand, and they all began dancing together. It was hard not to laugh at the two tiny Hobbits dancing with girls almost double their height, and Aragorn and I exchanged grins as he handed me another flagon.

Almost all of the tables now had people dancing and singing on them. "I bet we could find an empty table for you," Aragorn said, and we laughed brightly together – the atmosphere really was very contagious.

"Oh, of course," I grinned back, "We Elves are renowned for our tabletop dancing – you could join me, having been raised by my kind yourself! Maybe Lord Elrond knew a few moves that you could pass onto me? I would appreciate it very much."

"If anyone should be doing the teaching, it is you, dear friend! Your father is used to this sort of scene, I am sure he has a vast array of dances that you could share!"

Eventually, after the men had gotten through a fair amount of verses, the song closed to an end, the room erupting in wails and roars of cheering and laughter and clapping. Éomer stumbled down off of the table, swiping another mug of drink from a fellow soldier and bringing it immediately to his lips.

Had he not had enough? I understand he was celebrating (I could not blame him for that), but it would be unfortunate if his blood were poisoned due to over-consumption. I am sure the other men would not be amused if their lord were to die – albeit, he would die happy.

I watched Éomer as he made his way across the room, bumping into every available chair, table, or person. No one minded, of course, most of them were as inebriated as he was, and I felt like a bit of black sheep due to the fact that I was probably one of the few people in the room who could actually see straight.

With his cheeks stained red with effort, the man finally found a spare seat (unfortunately fairly close to me, though I don't think his mind was clear enough to recognise my presence unless I chose to make myself known) and rested his head on his palm, twisting the mug around mindlessly in his other hand.

"I think you have had more than enough," I found myself telling the drunken man, anxious to tear his hand away from the flagon. I had not intended to sound quite as snide and pretentious as the words came out, but somehow I just couldn't help myself. "You would not wish to collapse next time you try clambering up on any more tables. I am sure you have plenty more songs to get you through the night, and I am sure neither Éowyn nor Elwin would be too pleased if you passed out halfway through the first chorus."

Éomer's clouded eyes narrowed slightly, the lines in his face deepening into a drunken scowl. "Stop getting jealous, Elf. You worried that I get to dance with her and you don't? Just because you want to keep the lass all to yourself!" A hint of contempt edged his tone and I leered down at where he was sat on his stool.

A white hot flame of fury unfurled within me and my hands quivered, trying to contain it. Éomer was just a man; a drunk man at that. Of course, we had never exactly seen eye to eye and right now I bet he had no idea what he was even saying. I couldn't blame him for insulting me to my face; I mean the man was completely out of it, for Manwe's sake! He had drunk at least as much as me, except I could handle the vast amount a lot better.

"_I am not jealous_," I hissed to him, curling my fist until my knuckles went white with strain. "You have some nerve to suggest such a thing! Just because I have no interest in cavorting on tabletops with the girl that is not to say I envy you for it, horse man."

Of course, there was no way I could deny that I was in fact completely jealous, not to mention I was arguing with a drunken man who had no hope of seeing any sense right now – that said, it was the same man who had been keeping Elwin from me ever since we had set off.

Éomer stood up and took a staggering step towards me, but I held my ground. The wooden stool crashed to the floor from where he had pushed up from it with too much force while standing. "Do not lie, I see how you eye her up. You," the man said aggressively, jabbing me in the centre of my chest, "are far away from your corrupted little forest, Elf. If anyone has got nerve it is _you_, insulting me in my own land – my own home!" I narrowed my eyes at him and Éomer shoved me roughly. "Just because someone else is spending time with her that is not to say that you have to get testy. Why not just climb a tree or something and leave us all alone."

I could have forgiven him for that remark – Éomer had simply more alcohol than blood running in his system, and it was making him say things that I do not think he meant. Unfortunately, forgiving drunken men for insulting me, my home, or any of my friends, was generally not one of my most favoured traits.

I took a step towards him, squaring up to him with my body trembling with pent up frustration. My whole body was tense, aching from being still for so long, and suddenly I just couldn't take it anymore.

The whole thing happened rather fast. Anger and drink had wiped my mind completely, leaving a hazy, clouded ghost of what it once was in its place. Before I quite knew what was happening, my fist connected full on with his nose.

There was a horrible, wet, crunching sound and Éomer, being quite unprepared for the attack, stumbled backwards and cried out, clutching with bloody hands at his face. At the site of the blood I looked at my own fist to see it stained with glistening crimson.

Using my shirt, I wiped off the blood and gripped my fist with my other hand, wincing but feeling strangely satisfied that I had dealt out some sort of justice. But there was also a vague sense of despair; not only had I been unable to control my emotions (causing it to land me in quite a mess) but I was not sure I wanted to face anybody after this.

Elwin especially.

A tense moment of stillness followed, but no one besides the men closest to us had actually seen what had happened and stopped to witness it; everybody else was none the wiser, continuing with their drinking and celebrating as if nothing had happened.

I realised I was breathing hard and heavy, adrenaline still rushing through my veins and pooling in my throbbing fist.

Ai, Elbereth. I wish I could have blamed it on the liquor, but I was nt drunk – it took _a lot_ of some seriously strong brew to get an Elf (especially a Mirkwood Elf who was fairly used to heavy alcohol) properly knocked out. However, I had certainly downed more than a few of those tankards when battling it out with Gimli, and though this Rohirrim drink was not as strong as some others I had sampled in the past, it was certainly not for the weak-hearted.

I had definitely been more alert on other days, let's say, and maybe engaging in a drinking competition with Gimli (despite winning it) had not been on of the best ideas.

Neither had punching Éomer either, then again.

While Éomer scrambled to his feet again, swaying and blinking away stars, I peered over his shoulder to see Aragorn giving me an alarmed look. He looked towards the doorway and I followed his gaze, nodding.

I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my frenzied breathing, still fuelled with emotion. I didn't know whether I felt bad or not yet, but I was guessing I would realise tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: Again, excuses… I am very sorry for the delay again, I'm a horrible person I know. To cut a long story short, **_**exams**_**. The bane of my life. I don't know whether it's just my school that has exams this time of year (I know some of my friend's schools' don't) but if you've also had exams recently, then good luck/I hope you did well on them! Mine weren't too bad… *cough except maths, oh God, not maths cough* Also, apologies for the short chapter this time, because of the exams I haven't had much time to write and I just wanted to update it before I left it for too long! Next chapter will be better, promise.**

**On a side note ASUIDEFWIFRIFHERIFGER THE NEW HOBBIT TRAILER I JUST WANT TO MELT IT'S SO AWESOME MIRKWOOD IS MY FAVOURITE PART OF THE BOOK AND ELVES AND BARD AND SMAUG – **_**SMAUG**_** – I'M SOBBING I WANT TO MELT *cough cough* yeah, so the new trailer was good…**

~ Chapter 6 ~

The news did not take long to reach me. There had been brawl within the celebrations last night and – though I had not been around to witness it, myself – I could only imagine how it might have gone down.

Éowyn had heard before me and she had rushed to me straight away. My mouth was agape while she told me, already a spark of anger igniting in the pit of my stomach.

I couldn't believe him! Who did Legolas think he was? A – a _prince_? He may hold a royal status in his own land, but in Edoras he was nothing more than a simple Elf, a _guest_ in Théoden's home; and then he had the nerve to go and break the King's nephew's nose?!

"I have theories," Éowyn told me while we escaped to my chambers to give me a chance to calm down (especially after almost screaming in disbelief in the middle of Great Hall). Éowyn was as irritated as I was, but she was giving Legolas a strange and uncomfortable amount of pardon, which I was, to say the least, not entirely happy with.

I kicked my feet up into the empty space above my bed, attempting to take my anger out on the air. "Oh, do you? And what might they be?"

Éowyn scrunched up her face, proceeding warily. "Well… I understand you are mad at him, I too agree that his actions towards my brothers were far less then courteous… but, I was just wondering about the reasons behind them? They may not get along, but I doubt Legolas would attack physically like that without some sort of provocation."

I frowned. "What does it matter? Éomer was my friend, as much as he is your brother, and Legolas was completely unreasonable! Whatever Éomer might have done or said, that does not mean Legolas is in the clear!"

"No, of course not," Éowyn continued, softening her voice to sooth me. "However, I know my brother and he is not usually so mean when drunk – overconfident and arrogant, at times, yes, but never cruel. They must have been fighting over something."

"Oh, really? And what might that be?"

Éowyn wet her lips, taking a moment for her previous words to linger. "I was thinking that _thing_ might in fact be _you_."

Heavy silence hung in the air like dark thunderclouds. Slowly, I angled my head to face my friend, scrutinising her expression and tone for any signs of sarcasm. Unfortunately, Éowyn's features came out clean. "You– what?"

"Take a moment to think about it, Elwin." She crossed her hands in her lap, looking at me steadily. "Legolas and you obviously have an affectionate – albeit fairly arduous – relationship, and… then you and my brother also now have quite a close friendship…"

"Yes…" I _think_ I knew where she was taking this, and I was not quite sure how I felt about it.

"Well…" she paused, her face crumpling in thought, "maybe… maybe he feels threatened by my brother? They never got along beforehand, and now, what with you getting closer to Éomer, you might be pushing them even further apart."

"Why would _I_ matter? Legolas may not like Éomer, but he knows we are just friends." Pulling myself into a sitting position on the bed, I crossed my legs and arms in a defensive gesture. I did not see how I came into one of Legolas and Éomer's little spats.  
Éowyn rolled her eyes seeing me draw into myself, evidently showing I was not eager to talk. She pursed her lips and leaned forward, propping up her head on her hand. "Has he ever been prone to jealously? I know you have…"

"We are not discussing me!" I protested, pulling a face. "I… why should I know? If he ever had been jealous, I doubt he would tell me anyway. I do not think jealously is the case; he should know nothing is going on between your brother and I."

Another thoughtful frown from Éowyn and I sighed in response, only prompting the lines in her face to deepen yet more. She stared at me intently for a moment or two, studying me silently – did she think I was lying? All I could do was stare back, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, and words incapable of coming to mind.

"All right, then," Éowyn finally said, her brow set determinedly, "I think you should talk to Legolas. We can look for him now, if you want."

I almost laughed at that. _If I want_. I certainly wanted to find the Elf, but maybe 'talk' was the wrong word for it… however 'shout' and 'scream' were all words that came to mind.

I did not feel the need to reply verbally. I just nodded solemnly and snatched up my friend's hand so we could make our way down to the market place to look for Legolas – he could be anywhere, I suppose, but the market was a good place to start. He was usually out and about Edoras at this time of day, sometimes with Gimli or Aragorn or occasionally on his own; if we were going to find him now, here was our best bet.

"Do not make a scene," Éowyn hissed into my ear, giving my hand one last tight squeeze as we ambled along through the hustle and bustle in the sunlight, scanning the crowds for any sign of his Elven features. "I expect if he knows that this is what you wish to talk about, he may try to take you somewhere more private. I am sure he is ashamed enough, he does not need you making it worse."

I nodded with a dry smile, anxious for her to leave. I appreciated where she was coming from, but it was not like I was going to take any heed of her words. On the contrary, I would have loved to cause a scene. Legolas had not only insulted Éomer and left him with a lumpy nose and a great purple welt on his cheek, but he had inadvertently insulted Théoden, Éowyn, and myself, and it would not go unpunished on my part. If I could, I would have had shouted him down to his knees in the middle of the market place, right in front of everybody, while his ivory cheeks coloured bright with crimson shame. How dare he!

Éowyn's figure soon left my line of view, and as I ventured further into the bustle of the market place, the Elf I was seeking soon entered my sight. I wasted no time in storming straight up to him, drawing back my hand and whipping it across his face as hard as I could. The smack of skin echoed throughout the market place and vibrations of pain tingled all the way through to my fingertips. As my palm left my face I saw it had left a bright red mark that marred the alabaster flesh of his cheeks.

I probably should have felt some sort of remorse, if not for Legolas then for Éowyn – _do not cause a scene,_ she had said; I'd like to see her try and stop me – but the feeling never came. Not one tiny, insignificant fibre of my entire being could produce even the slightest amount of guilt or conscience for my actions.

"You complete and utter _fool_, Legolas!" I screamed at him, relishing in watching him flinch away from me, hand pressed over the burning mark on his face and expression set in that of confounded shock.

"You heard then…" Taking a second to recover, Legolas looked away, to ashamed to look me in the eyes. "I realise you might think that of me–"

Already Legolas had spoken too many words for my liking and I was not going to take it, especially when I was far from finished. "Yes, I heard, and yes, I do bloody think that of you! I suppose you want to tell me that you are sorry?" I cut in before he had barely had a chance to let any more syllables pass through his lips.

"I–" there was reluctance in his voice and it did nothing to calm the raging inferno blazing within me – if anything, it only added more fuel to the fire. "Yes.

My lips curled into a snarl. "Well then, it is not me you should be apologising to. What, by the great love of Eru, was going through your mind, Legolas?! I care not how much you dislike the man, Éomer is my _friend_ and it is far past indecent of you to attack him like that!"

Legolas shrunk beneath my heated gaze. "I would not say much was going through my mind, I admit. I was not thinking straight… but please, Elwin, you must believe me when I say I am deeply sorry."

My hand twitched by my side and I badly wanted to slap him again – in fact, why I did not was beyond me. "It is not me who you need to apologise to. I do not care what he said to you, nor the way he said it; tomorrow you _will_ seek out Éomer and apologise profusely to him. Do you understand?" Holding all this anger was hard to control, and I doubt I was doing a very good job at harnessing it in the slightest – in fact, I was pretty sure half the market place had stopped their everyday life to point and stare at us.

Legolas' face tightened. He looked irritated (I was barely letting him get word in edgeways, and I did not want to let him) and his brow was furrowed deeply, his eyes rarely meeting mine – I took that as a good sign, aside from his irritation.

"Of course, I will seek him out, for your sake."

I stopped. For a moment we did nothing but stare at each, the Elf's gaze less sheepish now and suddenly far more firm. My fists curled into tight balls and my teeth pierced my tongue as I tried my hardest not to get violent with him again.

"_For my sake?_" The echo of his words came out as chilling snarl and even I, myself, was a little taken back by it. What in Eru's name did he mean by that?!

Still looking very tight-lipped, Legolas' face darkened. "I am deeply sorry that I offended you, Elwin, I truly am... and it apologising to Éomer is what it takes for you to forgive me, then that is what I shall do. However, you should know that I do not regret what happened – that man both threatened and insulted me and – though I cannot say it was very smart of me – I stand by my actions." His arms crossed over his chest, marking those final words.

I admit I was rendered fairly speechless at that. Eyes wide, mouth agape, and still furious, hopeless syllables and the ends of words spluttered from my lips; my mind was completely dead when it came to any form of comeback, so I just stood there, glaring.

"Well, then," I managed to force out, tilting my chin upwards and attempting to get eyelevel with him (it was rather hard when Legolas was about half a head taller than me, but I could certainly try). "It would not count as an apology to me unless you apologise to Éomer. I do not care what he said… whatever it may be, I am sure he did not mean for you to take it personally."

Legolas scoffed loudly, eyes flaring up in a sudden burst of chagrin. "No, of course not_._ _I_ am the one being imprudent here. You are perfectly right, and I would expect nothing more than you to take his side." His tone was foul and his words left a nasty, festering taste on my tongue.

The tables had turned and suddenly Legolas was the one shouting me down.

The Elf sent me a black look. "In fact, I will go find him right now, shall I?" With one last scowl, he turned his back on me and was gone, lost in the crowds.

That certainly was not meant to happen. _I_ was supposed to be the one mad at _him_ and now, well, I was not going to lie, I felt fairly awful.

Maybe Éowyn was right. Maybe I should not have caused such a scene.


	7. Chapter 7

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: After that horrific amount of delay with the last chapter, and on this one, to make it up to you guys I tried to make this one longer :D My life's been quite hectic but now everything has calmed down (hopefully) and also it's the summer holidays, so we should be back on schedule!**

**(I think I need like a magic, squawking alarm clock or something that stops me from getting distracted and shouts at me to get on with everything… that would probably be very useful.)**

~ Chapter 7 ~

"Legolas! Legolas, wait! Oh, you–" I had to press my lips together, scrunching up my face (which must have looked rather strange to any onlookers) to stop myself from cursing loudly in public.

He cannot have escaped too far away… where could he have gone?

People were pushing past me, enveloping around me like a swarm of angry bees. They took little notice that I was even there at all, far too absorbed in their own daily business to care – for all they knew, I could have been doing the same, shoving a path through them all not because I was looking for Legolas but because I was too wrapped up in my own world to bother about them.

After a good hour or so looking for the elusive Elf, I finally had to admit defeat – I did not quite understand why he seemed so mad at me (I was still pretty angry at him) but whatever I had done seemed to be reason enough for him to avoid me.

I at least hoped Legolas had sought out Éomer to apologise, as I had requested, but some part of me doubted that he would bother after what just happened.

A sigh passed through my lips and if there had not been so many people around I would have liked to sink to the ground and scream to myself. Were all relationships this complicated? Or were Legolas and I just… not compatible? I did not know if what we had even counted as a relationship – an affectionate rivalry, maybe.

Where was Éowyn when I needed her, because I sure could do with someone to hold me right now (and Legolas was certainly no option)? Seeing Éomer I doubt would help me, but Aragorn or Gimli would suffice (if I could find them, that is) – but what I really just wanted was an embrace of some sort, with Éowyn's soft words of advice and comfort drifting through my ears. Éowyn usually knew what to say and do in these situations, being the good friend to me that she was.

With evening on its way, I groaned quietly under my breath, begrudgingly acknowledging the fact that Legolas had long since run off to somewhere by now. It was still busy out, but the city would soon be sleeping and – having made a circle around Edoras – the Golden Hall was close by, so I decided to start making my way back inside to the sleeping quarters. A chill wind accompanied the dark clouds that were beginning to mark the sky, so the prospect of a warm hearth and some food, not to mention hopefully running into Éowyn again so we could talk and relax, was a tempting prospect.

Unfortunately, Eru seemed to have decided that some peace and a little rest was evidently not on my cards for this evening, however much I wished for it to be, for as soon as I entered the sleeping quaters my eyes were met with a rather frustrating sight.

"You have been here the _whole time?!_" I wanted to scream at Legolas but my voice barely managed above a tight hiss under my breath. "You ran off, I have looked everywhere for you!"

Éowyn was not here, but Aragorn and Gimli were. They looked up at my sudden arrival, alarmed, and their bodies shifted in my direction – they noticed my face red with anger and prepared themselves to run over and split the two of us up if things got too out of hand.

Locking my eyes in cold, unmoving stare, Legolas' mouth tightened into a thin line. "Obviously not everywhere. And it did not appear you cared that much, either."

My lips curled back over my teeth in a vehement scowl, choosing to blatantly ignore that last part. "I did not spend my time searching just to have you back-mouth me. What's wrong, I do not understand?"

Why Legolas was annoyed with me was beyond me – what had I done to insult him? I was supposed to be mad at Legolas, not the other way round!

Voice faltering slightly, Legolas continued to glare at me, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing. "I do not know if this has occurred to you, Elwin, but there are more important things going right now than one of your foolish flings. _That_ is what is wrong."

_Whatever you mean by 'flings'_, I was about to hiss to him, but the room enveloping into darkness signified that (besides Legolas and I, and possibly Aragorn) the rest of our companions were asleep. I must have been staring because after a number of heavy, silent seconds had ticked by, Legolas caught my eyes with another withering look and immediately chose to go and stand outside on the steps. Hood yanked over his eyes, the Elf was gone in a flurry of limbs and soft grey-green material. Aragorn joined him shortly after.

Was I to go after them? I decided against it; whatever they were going to discuss it would not include me (were it battle strategies, plans to advance, or myself that they were conversing about), or Aragorn would have signalled for me to join them. I suppose the most use I would be now would be to stay with the others and watch over them (at least until I drifted off myself) as they rested.

I pitched my things in a corner, emotionally exhausted from the events of today. Something Legolas had said had struck me as odd; what was all this about flings? Did he think I had just tossed him aside now that Éomer had come into the picture? _Men_…

Though, despite everything, Legolas was right – there were far, far more important things to worry about right now (though he need not have said it in such a boorish manner).

I thought I could occupy the would-be hours with polishing my bow and frivolously arranging what little items I kept in my small pack, but it did not take long for the finals drops of energy departed from my body. There might have been some hushed whispering or scuffling from across the room, but I merely placed it down to my jaded mind hearing things, and eventually I felt my eyes glazing over.

Not long after Legolas and Aragorn had stepped outside and things had settled down, there was a startling shout. At once everyone jumped to their feet, dazedly blinking away the stars and dark spots in their vision that lingered from sleep – feet staggered and heads shaking away the last remnants of slumber still, but weapons at the ready nonetheless.

It did not take us long to seek out the source of the scream – Pippin had suddenly started to hyperventilate, yelping and gasping in terror… the _palantir _held rigidly before him.

_Oh, no. Oh, Eru, Pippin._

I made a move towards the Hobbit but Legolas' hand was quicker and he wrenched me back in one swift movement. I had not even noticed the Elf's presence appear, melting from the shadows to my side in an instant. Graciously, I turned the wrist Legolas had taken into his grip and knotted my fingers through his own; I was far too concerned for Pippin to stay mad at Legolas.

"_N'uma, daro,_" he said, murmuring for me to stop. There was a moment of tense hesitation before slender fingers, chilled from the brisk winds outside, squeezed back – apparently, Legolas had also forgiven me for the moment, and I was thankful for that.

I had been about to question why Legolas was holding me back (in fact, now that I think back, Legolas was _always_ doing this to me, though this was no time to go into that) but as I observed the scene, I realised there was little I – _we_ – could do, except stand back and make sure nobody else got hurt – too many people grabbing and shouting at Pippin would most likely panic the poor Hobbit even more.

Pippin sank to his knees, his mouth open in a soundless scream. He fell backwards, powerless to release the fiery globe. Aragorn rushed forward to his aid, trying to wrench the accursed object from Pippin's paralyzed grip. Meanwhile Merry was growing restless, creased expression and unsteady, twitching movements making his unease increasingly evident.

Following suit of Legolas, I reached forward with my free hand and placed it on Merry's shoulder, squeezing gently before pulling him back against my body. Though it was not particularly cold inside, Merry was shivering, every fibre of his being on edge as he watched Aragorn try to help his best friend.

After a short struggle, Aragorn finally managed to force the _palantir_ from the trembling Hobbit's clutch; Pippin collapsed immediately, while Aragorn spun away, reeling backwards as the glowing orb tumbled from his hands.

Though free from the control of the _palantir_, from the Pippin was babbling, post-trauma. Merry was the first to reach him, breaking free from my hold and charging forward to Pippin.

I drew in a sharp intake of breath, cowering back a little as the _palantir_ rolled closer to us; Legolas went as far as to take a step back from the offending object, drawing me back with him.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf huffed, angry disbelief marring the usually so friendly and twinkling features. Using his staff, Gandalf swept a blanket from the floor and tossed over the _palantir_ – we could relax now. For a few moments while the _palantir_ was uncovered, I could have sworn I had heard horrible thumping and wailing sounds, not dissimilar to the war cries the Uruk-Hai had made at Helm's Deep.

"Is Pippin okay?" I managed to squeak out, while Merry wrapped a comforting arm around the younger Hobbit's shoulder and Gandalf tried to hastily extract what Pippin had seen in the depths of the _palantir_.

Legolas swallowed, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue anxiously. "He should be, Gandalf should make sure of that." He did not sound very convinced, but I trusted Gandalf, and not to mention Merry, to take care of poor Pippin.

Everyone immediately fell silent as Merry calmed Pippin enough for him to talk without hyperventilating. "A tree… there was a white tree, and… and… a courtyard of stone, the tree was in the courtyard… it was dead!" Pippin's disjointed murmurs could be heard from across the room. "The city, there was a city… behind the tree… it was burning!"

I knew little of such a city, but Gandalf answered the unasked question hanging on my tongue. "Minas Tirith. Is that what you saw Pippin?"

Terrified, Pippin nodded. "I saw… I saw _him_… I could hear his voice in my head. I didn't answer him, though!" He added quickly, when a grumbling noise slipped through Gandalf's lips. "He asked my name, he asked me of Frodo, I didn't answer… he hurt me."

Pippin's body began to shudder again. Aragorn tossed Merry a blanket, and in an instant Merry had bundled Pippin up snugly in it – though Pippin no longer shook, Merry insisted on keeping a protective arm around his shoulders. It almost looked like Merry was glaring at Gandalf, daring him to interrogate his terrorized friend further.

After staring for a long while, Gandalf straightened his back and brushed off his robes. "There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," the wizard announced to the rest of the room (and to the newly-arrived Théoden, attracted by all the commotion, who was hovering by the entrance with an unreadable expression in his eyes – his features relaxed at this news however, as did the rest of ours). In fact, the whole room breathed an audible sign of relief. "He is a fool, but at least he remains an honest fool. Sauron is still yet to know anything of Frodo and the ring, nor any of their whereabouts."

Gandalf turned and caught eyes with Théoden. They spoke no words, but Théoden nodded and together they departed together to converse in private; to give the rest of us the remains of our well-needed slumber.

Legolas stayed nearby to me, but we did not speak – now that all the excitement was over, I suppose we were back to being annoyed at each other. He was staring into the dark, and I was worried he might be sleeping, but then he blinked – not asleep then. I waited for complete silence, making sure everybody else had dozed off, before speaking up again. "I– I'm sorry."

"Hmm?" Legolas looked up, slightly startled by my sudden murmur. I gather I was not the loudest spoken just now, but did he really not hear me? Or was he just going to make me repeat myself?

Biting my lip, a thin layer of dust on the floor suddenly became interesting and I averted my gaze to it, drawing feeble patterns instead of maintaining eye contact with Legolas. "I said I was sorry. For your cheek." I risked a moment of eye contact to reach up and touch the small mark that marred the otherwise flawless alabaster skin; it would be gone by tomorrow, and Éomer's nose was surely worse, but I still felt guilty. "I slapped you, remember? And I am sorry for that. Please do not make me repeat myself again."

Legolas was silent, but I knew the Elf was smirking – I could tell. "Yes, I think I remember that," he replied, and I was not amused by his attempt at humour – I was trying to be sincere here, and he was doing little to help my cause. "Forgive me, I should be apologising too," he said after sensing my displeasure. "I should not have stormed off earlier, and I certainly should not have assaulted Éomer… and if you really wish it of me, then tomorrow I shall seek him out to apologise formally."

"You would do that?" I could do little to hide my tone of surprise.

"Of course, if it really means that much to you for us to make peace, then yes."

I smiled and found his hand in the dark, tentatively hooking my fingers through the gaps of his own. The heat of his palm travelled up my arm and spread pleasantly throughout my body. "Thank you, Legolas. I will ask the same of him, to be more civil towards you. It does mean a lot if you two would try to get along."

I would have attempted a kiss with him as well (we had not done so since that time after Helm's Deep) but the timing did not feel right – not that I did not want to, of course, in fact I would have liked nothing better, but we had finally made up and I did not want to ruin the blissful serenity.

Instead, with my hand still securely encased within Legolas', I shifted my position to lie down, and was surprised to find Legolas' arms following my own. As I got comfortable on my side, a delightfully warm arm draped loosely over my waist. I wiggled backwards so it would envelope me more, and soon I could feel the heavy weight of his chest pressing against my back, the arms that had previously spent so long training to nock an arrow and fire in half a second, or skewer an Orc in one fell strike with a knife, (and in once case hitting a drunken man) tightening and sheltering me from the cold.

Maybe I was wrong, maybe we were compatible after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Elwin – Eternal Love

**Note: I wasn't 300 years late with this chapter! *cough a little bit but not 300 years exactly which is good cough* *happy dances into sunset***

**Just a note, I am going on holiday today, so I will probably wait until after my holiday and write it along with another chapter to update with.**

**(This chapter is mainly just fluff between Legolas and Elwin, because the last chapter was mainly to try and move the plot along, and also they've been mad at each other for a while and I want them to be happy. So yeah, not a long chapter, but a least lots of fluffles :3 )**

**_Beta'd by the incredibly awesome_**__**_Katie aka_**__**_Unrequited Hate who totally didn't just type this and who totally isn't hoping_**__**_Lici_**__**_won't read_**__**_this_**__**_through again before posting the chapter but she probably (totally) will *troye sivan voice* bYEEEE_**

**(^^ Subtle, Katie… ^-^ thanks for beta-ing for me, though!)**

~ Chapter 8 ~

The next morning, as I slowly eased myself back into consciousness, I found myself still tucked tightly in Legolas' arms. He was holding me against his body and I could feel the gentle and steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. His eyes were open, though they were clouded and dim, telling me that the Elf was not quite awake yet.

At first I was surprised to still find Legolas' arms wrapped around me, but it did not take long for me to sink back into the warmth his body radiated, smiling to myself. "What time is it?" I asked aloud, the tone of my voice raspy and not yet accustomed to the early hour.

Eyelids fluttering, the light and colour slowly returned to Legolas' eyes. He stretched his neck to check the others behind us, all still sleeping soundly. "Dawn is just breaking, or at least I assume. Still early."

I liked these little moments between us, when everyone else was asleep, with the blackened pre-dawn violet breaking through the thin slits of windows that hunghigh above our heads. They were quiet and intimate, but we still had the comforting presence of those we love scattered around us.

The space between our lips closed and I instantly drew in my breath and held it for the remainder of our kiss; it would take some time adjusting to as I was still not quite used to this level of intimacy with Legolas, or even harbouring such emotions. Soon, however, I felt the softness of his lips leave my own, though Legolas kept close to me.

Our time alone together, however, was short and we only had a few more moments before Aragorn roused, soon to be followed by the Hobbits and Gimli. Gandalf seemed to already be awake and going about Edoras – or speaking with Théoden, which was more likely – and I suppose we were to join him soon.

Legolas squeezed my hand one more time before we pulled apart and sat up, just as Aragon's shadow fell over us. He raised an eyebrow with a bemused smirk, but Legolas just smiled brightly at the man. "Sleep well?"

Aragorn scanned the distance between us for a second longer and I swear I could almost see the cogs working in his brain – in fact I was pretty sure that Aragorn already knew what was going on but was too polite to say so in front of the two of us.

After a short while, Aragorn nodded slowly. "A small amount, though it was better than I have in a long while – at least after things had calmed down, that is. Come," he knelt and extended a hand to help first pull me to my feet, and then Legolas, "we must meet with Gandalf and Théoden, they will be expecting us."

Our meeting in the main hall was little more than going over what had happened with Pippin the night before (though the King and Gandalf would most likely stay behind after the rest of us had left to continue conversing) and Gandalf reassured us again that the young Hobbit was recovered and had not let slip any information on Frodo or the Ring.

"We have been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw a glimpse of the enemy's plan in

the _palantir_." We were almost breathing a combined sigh of relief until the Wizard continued with, "Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing: he knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth." Gandalf looked over to Aragorn and nodded and I tried not to look surprised – I really did not know much about the backgrounds of my friends (though my memory was not what it used to be, and Aragorn had not exactly made it obvious by parading around in a glittering crown half the time). "He thoughtMen to be weak," Gandalf continued, "but there is courage and strength still, perhaps enough to challenge him. Sauron fears that the peoples of Middle Earth will unite, and will not risk this. If the beacons of Gondor are lit then Rohan must be ready to answer."

"And why should we ride to Gondor's aid?" Théoden cut in, tone laced with bitter spite. "What did they do for us when we were clawing for our lives at Helm's Deep? What do we owe Gondor?"

"I will go," Aragorn suggest, earning a hard glare from both Gandalf and Théoden.

"No."

"But they must be warned!"

Gandalf leant low to Aragorn's ear and muttered something that I could not hear; probably something that Théoden would not be too happy about Gandalf saying, which explain the secrecy at least, but what those words actually were I did not know. Then, turning away from Aragorn, Gandalf pointed one gnarled finger at Pippin, who was sitting close beside Merry across from us. "I will be the one to ride to Minas Tirith, and I will not be going alone, Peregrin Took."

~xXx~

Later that day, Gandalf emerged from his discussion long enough to pluck up Pippin and lead him to the stables, with Merry stumbling shortly after his best friend. "Of all the inquisitive Hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst of them! Hurry now!" I caught Gandalf saying loudly as Pippin almost lost his footing and scrambled to keep up.

I had not caught the full final exchange between Merry and Pippin, only witnessed it from afar – Legolas and I had sat in silence, looking over the two Hobbits from a balcony, but I am not sure I wanted to hear what their (hopefully not final) words were anyway; it looked fairly heart-breaking, for both of them, and I made a mental note to go see Merry later on to make sure he was okay.

I knew Legolas could tell I was not feeling as chipper as I usually was, and the sudden warmth of his hand on mine made me look up with a jolt. "You look concerned," I told him off the bat and was rewarded with a short laugh.

"You sound so surprised. If you must know, Elwin, it seems there is never a moment when I am _not_ concerned for you – if I ever go grey, then I shall know who to blame!" Legolas' tone was light but his brow was knitted and I immediately felt guilty – I had not meant for him to worry about me, for whatever reason (though, I must say, it was nice knowing Legolas cared).

"It is nothing," I assured him, "just fretting over shadows, as Éowyn would say."

"You know you can talk to me?" The gentle touch left my hand and instead travelled to my shoulder, drawing me closer to his body and making my heart did a somersaults.

"I know I can, but still I–" I sighed, giving into the warmth. I wasn't lying when I said it was nothing, but Legolas was persistent that something was wrong and I suppose it would be nice to get it off my chest anyhow. "I am not sure why I just realised this, but… everything is so _big_. There is an entire world out there, and we're fighting for it. _Us_. I know there are plenty of other soldiers that deserve a mention, but in the end it will be us standing beside Aragorn and Gandalf on the front lines. Does that not overwhelm you? And yet, still, here we are, putting our trust into two tiny Hobbits, no different from Merry and Pippin. Not that I do not trust Frodo and Sam, of course," I added hastily. I was a little afraid I had been ranting for too long now, but once I started it was hard to halt the flow of words. "But… it is hard to place my faith in something I do not fully believe myself. W hat if we fail?"

Legolas rubbed my arm and pressed a kiss onto my head. "We will not fail. Somebody has to stand next to Aragorn on the front line and who better than those who he trusts?" Another soft peck, this time on my lips, and I tried to hang onto the tingle that was left behind for as long as I could. "I know it can seem a lot to handle at times… especially as you were not initially intended to join this quest, and I fear you have been dragged into something far bigger than any of us could ever imagine. But I do not regret your addition… even if I did at first," he added with a wince and I could not help but giggle.

"Let us change the subject then, something more cheery, perhaps?" I took a quick moment to think something up while Legolas stared down at me, an amused expression toying with his features. "What do you plan to do after all… _this_ is over?" I asked finally, gesturing to the world around us – _'this'_ was not a particularly clear way of phrasing the desolation and war occurring in our beautiful Arda, but Legolas understood.

"Return home, I suppose," he replied with a contented sigh, "although I did promise Gimli I would one day show him my father's realm and Fangorn once the darkness has left, and he in turn wanted to show me the Glittering Caves and some Dwarvish caverns… but it would be nice to return home to see my father before I head off again. Besides myself, he does not have any other family, and so I am sure he would want to see me as well." A short pause where Legolas coughed and his gaze fluttered away from mine. "You could come with me. I mean, only if you wished to, of course, I would never–"

I cut him off with a laugh and Legolas gave me a sheepish smile. "I would like that. I cannot even begin to tell you how long it has been since I've been in Mirkwood, andI would like to go back."

"You do not think they will miss you in Firenzei?"

"If they ever did, then I am sure by now they have recovered. Besides, I'd much rather go back with you, if– if that's okay."

A shared smile, and then he kissed me, though it was not gentle and short like the other times. It was more like our first (proper) kiss in the infirmary; full and passionate and needy and brimming with magic. Somehow, I was brought back to clinging to him like a leaf to a branch in the autumn time, and Legolas graciously accepted the positive response. He hooked his hand in the small of my back and I wrapped one arm around his neck, running the other across his chest, and amongst all of the dizziness and fluttering heart beats I had to remind myself stay grounded and possibly not faint.

For now, however, I was content to feel his breath come and go with mine, and what a perfect distraction it was for such desolate times.


End file.
